Child of the moon
by Oblivian03
Summary: All it takes is one bite, one betrayal and then your life can change forever. And this is exactly what happened to Luke.
1. Bite

**I do not own the Mortal Instruments.**

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**Hi, this is my second time writing on here (in this category), so yeah. I have decided to dust of this fic and continue on with it, but updates will be a while as I have one (and soon to be two) more pressing fics I have to write for another catergory (prompts). But I will try to update weekly. **

**This is my version of when Luke gets bitten and the events that follow (up to when he changes). Enjoy.**

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**Chapter 1: Bite**

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When the door slammed open that day, the series of events that had yet to take place was set on an irrevocable course that there was no coming back from. The members of the Circle were all in the prime of their youth and little too late did they realise the significance of what had taken place.

"Back so soon from the hunt?" Stephen called from the living room of which they were all seated in, "I would have thought you would have enjoyed yourselves a bit longer before returning to your humble residence and relieving that worrying of your wife."

He was surprised when neither of the pair answered, or at least when Valentine did not snap back a retort; Lucian was, while undeniably friendly, rather withdrawn and awkward in the more social of situations. His _parabati_ was the exact opposite; bold, outgoing and the life of any party. This fact only proved the statement that opposites attract.

"Valentine?" Jocelyn asked hesitantly when still no reply was given, "Are you alright?" And suddenly the house burst into action around them.

"Hodge, Maryse, get the first aid room prepared now. Stephen, help me with him," Valentine ordered, his voice uncharacteristically frantic as it floated through the walls towards them. Everybody jumped up and dashed out to the hall to see what had occurred with the exceptions of Hodge and Maryse who obeyed Valentine's command and ran in the other direction towards the infirmary that had been installed at Jocelyn's insistence in case anything bad should happen when Valentine returned from one of his hunts and right now it sounded as if that forward thinking would finally see some more action than just a few cuts and abrasions.

Stephen felt his heart jump into his throat as he beheld the sight before him numbly sensing Robert stopping a fainting Amatis from crashing to the ground. Upon their leader's shoulders was the limp and unresponsive form of Lucian, a fact that was disturbing in itself had Valentine not been covered in what was clearly his_ parabati's_ blood. And what was more disturbing than that was the fact that in his mind Stephen could only think of one reason as to why one of the most formidable shadowhunters of their group was slung across another's shoulders; he had been injured by the very thing the pair had been hunting, werewolves.

"Stephen!" Valentine's voice was sharper than usual, dragging him from his stupor and back into the reality of the situation. He unconsciously felt his legs moving beneath him as his arms stretched out to take half the weight of his wounded comrade whose head flopped around at the change in positions. The blonde man caught sight of the wound which was clearly the source of Valentine's frenzied, almost panic-like state and did a double take.

Lucian's shoulder looked as if it had been set upon and ripped open by a vicious set of teeth which only confirmed Stephen's worst fears. Blood was gushing from the large gashes at an alarming rate though it was clear that Valentine had tried to stop the bleeding as best he could.

"Why didn't you use the runes?" he heard Jocelyn ask, concern clearly evident in her voice. Valentine seemed to growl back the answer, almost as if he was unhappy with the level of concern his wife was showing the unconscious Lucian, but then again, it was probably just the shock and stress Stephen thought, not that Valentine looked all that shocked.

"I tried that already. They didn't work. Now see if you can find anything to stop the bleeding," snapped back her husband. Stephen watched as Jocelyn darted ahead of them, red hair whirling around her head in her hurry. He continued to help Valentine lug Lucian towards their intended destination.

"How did this happen?" he said, panting slightly at the effort of moving a fully grown man, though one that was thankfully smaller than most of the other males he knew. Valentine glanced at him over his _parabati's _lolling head.

"We found the den alright," he said, "But when we went to attack, I got distracted by an attacking werewolf and lost sight of him for a moment. Next thing I knew he was on the ground screaming in agony as one of the bastard Downworlders was mauling him. Barely got him out of there alive."

"Surely Lucian would have been able to hold his own against one lycanthrope," Stephen interjected. Valentine, however, wasn't paying attention as they finally made it to the infirmary and were able to dispose of their quarry on one of the two beds that filled the room.

_It must be painful, thought Stephen as he observed his leader, to see his own _parabati_ like this__. _Everyone knew of the unique bond those who were deemed as blood brothers shared; they were closer than any other relationship bond the two participants may form, be it through marriage, parentage or family. _Parabatis_ would follow each other to the ends of the earth and into hell itself if the occasion called for it.

Hodge and Jocelyn had already set to work in mixing up various herbs and plants, creating a thick paste of sorts. Maryse had excused herself, never being one for dealing with wounds of this extent. She announced that she would be leaving with Robert to check up on their son, Alec, who they had left with some trusted friends also minding Jonathan for Jocelyn.

Thinking about his friends' child, Stephen couldn't help but shiver. There was something about the boy, something that he couldn't quite put a finger on but he knew in his mind was off.

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Jocelyn hurriedly removed the ragged strips of material that still clung to Lucian's bloodied shoulder. She could feel her husband breathing down her neck in apprehension of what was to come and deep in her mind she felt the same fear. If Lucian managed to survive, that did not discredit the fact that this was a werewolf bite, the only other known way that the lycanthrope disease could be spread besides being inherited by any children of these particular Downworlders. A bitter taste arose in her mouth and she swallowed, refusing to become distracted in helping her long-time friend.

The injured shadowhunter had not moved since Valentine had brought him in but now he was groaning in a wretched tone, clearly in pain from his wound. Thrashing around slightly on the bed, Lucian almost managed to hit her square in the face before Valentine moved and restrained his friend's arms.

"Whatever you're going to do," Valentine growled as Stephen moved to help pin down his brother-in-law's legs, "You had better do it now before he can injure himself further."

"I can't find the jar I'm looking for, the one the book says you're supposed to use in these situations," called Hodge from the shelf he was stumped over. Valentine swore.

"Here, swap with me and I'll see if I can find it. Jocelyn, keep working on stemming that blood flow." In the whole room, Valentine seemed to be the most collected. And this was one of the reasons as to why Jocelyn had agreed to marry him; he was a natural born leader, always looking after his own. And Lucian; her husband treated him like a brother and of that she was glad. If the pair had ended up hating each other she may not have been able to go through with the marriage.

Jocelyn continued to apply pressure to Lucian's wounds, trying hard to cause him as little pain as possible. Even so he struggled against the strong hands that held him down, caught up in the most basic human desire to flee from what was causing him such an intense agony. Stephen and Hodge's faces were beaded with sweat, for while wounded and not as big as the other two, Lucian was strong and the runes drawn over his body for strength only increased his power.

Opting to try the stele again, Jocelyn quickly inscribed the runes for healing directly onto the skin just below Lucian's mangled shoulder. She watched in disbelief as they faded away without leaving any physical trace on the surface of his skin or the deep tears in his shoulders that ran right down to the bone.

"Valentine," she cried as the man beneath her began to spasm uncontrollably, "We need that mixture now."

"It appears that we do not have any," her husband replied, "You will have to make-do with this instead."

He tossed a small vial towards Jocelyn who caught it in one fluid motion. She dumped the contents into the bowl of sludge and did not hesitate to begin dressing Lucian's shoulder with it. The shadowhunter's screams were beyond belief and Jocelyn was silently glad that Jonathan was not in the manor to hear them.

"But he may not survive without the correct solution," Hodge gasped as he watched Jocelyn apply the salve.

"It's the best we can do," Valentine answered, "And we will just have to hope it is enough." Jocelyn prayed that it would be so. Lucian was strong and would not give up without a fight. But it was what would happen if he survived that was the real problem.

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**So what do you think? Please review.**


	2. Fuzzy

**Alright, here's the second chapter for those of you who want. And the chapter title is not related to Luke being a werewolf. Enjoy.**

**Just fixing up Luke's eye colour which, incidentally, is blue (thanks to those who pointed that out - if I make any other mistakes, feel free to tell me, I haven't read the books in a while).**

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**Chapter 2: Fuzzy**

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Lucian wasn't sure where he was when he woke, all he knew was that he wasn't home. Groaning he tried to sit up only for a whitewash of agony to tirade through him. Why did he hurt so much?

The second time Lucian tried to sit, he managed to lift himself halfway up before he had to flop back down again. In that space though, he had seen the soiled bandages that were wrapped around his right shoulder and the upper part of his torso. Why were they there? He didn't know the answer and was somewhat apprehensive of the fact. He did know, however, that his shoulder was the main source of his pain.

"…doesn't wake?" a voice asked outside the room he was in, a room, he realised, that was familiar. It was the small infirmary in Valentine's house that had been put there at the insistence of Jocelyn. Jocelyn… Now he realised that she had been the one who had spoken.

"Do you really think I would just let him die? I would not allow for him to do such a thing and he knows it." Valentine's voice sounded determined and firm, yet there was something underneath his tone that Lucian couldn't quite pick up on. Still, the shadowhunter wondered what he was doing here instead at Amatis and Stephen's were he usually crashed out. He also wondered who his two friends were talking about.

"But what if-?"

"Go in and look for yourself," Valentine said sharply, cutting off his wife in midsentence, "He would not have passed in the few minutes that you have left him for. If you don't be careful, one would assume you care more for him than for me." Valentine's voice bore a joking edge, but there was again an undertone, a different one this time, an ugly one. Lucian shivered at his_ parabati's_ unusual tone.

"You know you are the only one I have ever loved," Jocelyn told him in reassurance, but unknown to her was the way they cut through her friend in the next room, the way they always cut through him when she said them. Still, Lucian was not one to get in the way of another's happiness because of his own selfish desires. He had been brought up better than that and so long as she still remained friends with him, he could at least be happy that it was all they would ever be.

Who was he kidding? It killed him every time he saw her and Valentine in each other's arms.

Lucian looked up as the door to the room opened and at the sight of Jocelyn, he pushed down all the shameful thoughts he had just been thinking. He would never doing anything to betray his blood brother, not even if it meant he would go to a grave with a broken heart. He gave Jocelyn a small smile as her eyes alighted upon him.

"Oh my…" she began, surprise clearly etched upon her face before she turned back to the door she had just closed, "Valentine!" Her husband came bursting in, seemingly ready for the worst, but he halted when he caught sight of Lucian.

"You're awake," he said bluntly somehow sounding a little less pleased than he should have been. Lucian let it pass.

"Isn't this great!" Jocelyn cried, almost jumping up and down in excitement, "He's survived." Lucian looked at her in bewilderment, not sure what reason she had to be so ecstatic.

"What do you mean I survived?" he asked hoarsely, his voice a little more than croaky from lack of use. The pair above him looked at him with expressions of concern, though Lucian did catch a glimpse of relief passing ever so slightly over Valentine's expression, an emotion that he smiled inwardly at. So his parabati did care.

"Don't you remember what happened?" his friend and leader asked. Lucian shook his head in answer, pleased that it did not take as much effort to lift it as it had when he first tried.

"If I did, I would know why I was lying here practically drowning in bandages," he answered, "All I do remember is that we were supposed to be hunting. Did something go wrong?" His blue eyes flicked over Valentine's form, trying to deem if the proud man was injured in any way.

"I would say," his _parabati_ replied, anger colouring his words slightly, "You were attacked, and if I had not been able to get to you in time-"

"I'm sure it was just a miscalculation on Lucian's part," Jocelyn intervened, defending her old friend at the same time from her husband's words. Valentine look as if though he would snap at her for a brief moment before a shadow passed over his face and the expression was gone.

"Well, you are lucky to be alive whatever the case might have been," he said. Lucian shot him a half-hearted smile.

"Thanks to you no doubt," he answered, before pausing for a minute, "So, what exactly was it that got me this time?"

A strong silence filled the room, and during that period of time, Lucian felt a cold, hard wave of disbelief settle over him.

"Valentine," he said with a slight hint of a warning tone in his voice, a tone he had rarely ever used, "What was it that we were hunting?"

Jocelyn suddenly burst into tears.

"It w…was a…a Lycanthrope," she gasped, "Y…you were attacked by a Lycanthrope."

Something heavy sank to the bottom of the pit that was his stomach.

"What?" he asked, unsure if he had heard right, not wanting to have heard right. There had to be some other explanation. But it was true, for he remembered exactly what they had been intending to do.

"You were bitten by a werewolf," Valentine growled, his voice containing no sympathy whatsoever as he dragged Jocelyn out of the room. Absently he wondered if the pair had talked at all about what Jocelyn had seen him doing. But the issue quickly fled from his mind, far from significant as the main problem loomed before him.

He had been bitten.

By a werewolf.

By a downworlder.

The very thing that the Circle had sworn to eradicate from existence.

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**There's a button down their for reviewing, and a section where you can write a few words about what you think. It's pretty simple really. Please review.**


	3. As good as dead

**Sorry for the long update (and short chapter), but you were warned. However, I will try to update sooner. A special thanks to those who have reviewed this story so far.**

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**Chapter 3: As good as dead**

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Jocelyn had been standing in the same position for the last five minutes, hand raised in the air, halfway through the motion of knocking on the door of the home of Stephen, which also happened to be the home of Amatis, Lucian's sister. She had never realised how hard this would be, not even during the previous night when she had stayed up all night debating whether or not she should inform her friend's only extended family that he was awake.

Awake.

There was only one way that the situation could turn now, and that way was not good for anyone involved, especially Lucian.

Summing up her courage, the shadowhunter finally knocked, rapping the door sharply three times. Jocelyn swallowed, her mouth dry. She felt like she was delivering news that someone's grandmother had died in a demon attack. For the people who done this for a living, informing loved ones when a hunt had gone wrong, she developed a sudden respect.

"Jocelyn," she heard a voice before her say more than a little surprise, "What brings you here?"

The woman's eyes drew up along the sturdy chest of her fellow comrade and up to Stephen's own eyes which were blinking somewhat owlishly at her, as if he had just woken from a nap. He took in her grave expression in and suddenly sobered, straitening his position as he tried to read every little detail in her face.

"It's not bad news is it?" he asked in a clearly worried tone.

"That depends on what you classify as bad news," Jocelyn answered, trying her best not to let her emotions get the better of her and break down on her friend's front doorstep, "Lucian's awake."

A wide grin split across Stephen's face and he let out a loud whoop before taking Jocelyn by the hands and spinning her around.

"I don't know what you are so upset about," he said in a joyful voice, "That is great news! I need to tell Amatis; she will be glad to hear her brother is okay. I told her he was strong enough to pull through, and I was right!"

The man was all bubbling energy, talking nonstop as he turned to race inside and up the flight of stairs just visible in through the doorway, dropping Jocelyn's hands in his frenzy to deliver the news to his wife, but then he paused in his movements, turning slowly back to face Jocelyn.

"So he's awake. Does he know?" Stephen's voice was a lot solemner this time.

"He knows," Jocelyn answered in a voice of despair, the tears she had been holding back before now brimming over and trailing down her face, "What can we do, for we cannot help him. No one has come up with a cure since the first person was infected with it."

Stephen stared at her in silence, trying to comprehend what she had said, what this all meant for the Circle, for Valentine's goals, for his wife, Amatis. He finally looked upon Jocelyn with sorrowful eyes.

"You should spend as much time as you can with him," the man said softly, "For I am sure he will appreciate the gesture before… Well, you have little under a month before whatever is inside of him now takes hold and Lucian is lost to us for good."

"Lucian is already lost for good," Jocelyn cried, near hysteria, both her breathing and heart rate quickening.

"Don't say that," Stephen told her, though the tone present in his voice only told the woman that he too believed her words, though grudgingly.

"Don't say what?" Amatis asked, drifting up beside her husband and taking hold of his arm, "Why, hello Jocelyn. Has Stephen not allowed you to come inside yet?"

"There is no need," the red head answered, "For I am only here to deliver news about…about…" She broke down in sobs.

"No…" the woman in front of her breathed before taking Jocelyn by the shoulders, "Tell me my brother isn't dead." Jocelyn looked up, barely able to meet her grey eyes.

"Your brother isn't dead," she said in a wretched tone.

"Then why-" Amatis began, confused, looking between her husband and her comrade.

"Amatis," Stephen said as gently as he could, "Lucian was bitten by a werewolf. If he is not dead, he might as well be for what will happen to him come his first full moon. There may be a slight chance, however, that he wasn't-"

"WHAT!" screamed Amatis, drawing away from her two fellow shadowhunters, "My brother has been infected by a WEREWOLF?"

"I know it's hard to accept," Stephen said, trying to reign in his wife, "But look on the bright side. At least he is not dead, and it is a while until the full moon meaning that you could spend time with-"

"Do you expect me to spend time with THAT?" she asked in disbelief. Stephen forehead creased slightly as he frowned.

"But he is your brother and he will need your support," he reasoned. Amatis turned her cold gaze upon him.

"That _thing_ is no longer my brother," she said harshly, "It is a monster, something that needs to be put out of its misery. It does not deserve my support."

"But Amatis," Jocelyn began in a desperate tone, pleading with her friend to see sense, "Lucian isn't gone yet, he won't be for a while. He's hurt, confused and in pain, and he needs you."

"I have no idea who you are talking about," she responded coldly, holding her head high, nose turned towards the sky, "For _my_ Lucian is as good as dead."

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed back into the house, Stephen sending Jocelyn an apologetic glance before closing the door as he took off after the upset woman. Once again, Jocelyn found herself outside in the cold, alone.

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**So, could you please review.**


	4. Comfort

**Sorry for the long update. I had a tone of stuff to do and needed to finish another story for another category. In any case, his chapter is probably the worst so far (do not ask what happened - I had an idea and, well... See for yourself).**

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**Chapter 4: Comfort**

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Lucian looked at the four walls he had been trapped in for days, and would have felt beyond bored if he still wasn't trying to adjust to the news Valentine had so charmingly informed him of.

Werewolf.

What he supposed to do? For most of his life he had been training to eliminate both demons and Downworlders alike from existence. There was a deep sense of mission etched into him for this, one created by his _parabati_, his friend and leader. It was a message that had been etched into each of the Circle, and now that Lucian was going to eventually turn into a werewolf, it would mean that one of his comrades would have to kill him.

The young man felt guilty for placing that burden upon one of his friends, that was if they were still his friends, for none had come to visit him since he had woken save for the occasional appearance of Valentine to change the bandages on his wounded shoulder. The isolation tore at Lucian and in the past few days he had wondered about whether it would be a good idea to end it all before one of the others had to.

Werewolf.

How did it all turn into such a disaster?

Muffled voices from outside the hall floated into his room, but Lucian was unable to pick up the words being spoken.

Wincing, he lifted himself further up, half sitting as he strained to learn what was going on. The voices had faded, however, but Lucian was still somewhat curious, and more than eager for a chance to stretch his legs.

Slowly the brown haired shadowhunter pushed himself off the bed with his good arm, wincing as even the smallest amount of pressure ran through his still healing shoulder. It was a while before he could actually work up the courage to stand, but when he did, Lucian stood swiftly, not wanting to lose his resolve halfway through.

He had to bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Slowly Lucian removed his hands from the wall beside him before taking a step forward. His legs felt like jelly, but the man worked through it, pushing on towards the door. For a fleeting moment he wondered whether it was locked, but dismissed the notion from his mind. Valentine had no reason to keep him prisoner. At least besides from the obvious. Lucian winced at this thought.

Placing his hand on the doorhandle, the young shadowhunter pushed, breathing a small sigh of relief when it swung open. Leaning against the wall on the opposite side, he took a moment to recompose himself, slightly worn out from the exertion and feeling like complete and utter crap.

Drawing himself up and moving on, Lucian kept to the walls as he walked antagonising slowly through the house. Finally he found what he was looking for, coming upon both Valentine and Stephen who appeared to be at a stand-off. Lucian cleared his throat causing the two to turn in surprise.

"What are you doing up and walking about?" Valentine asked, seemingly slightly angry at the fact his _parabati_ was standing right before him. Lucian just tweaked one corner of his mouth at him weakly, leaning against the wall as he panted.

Panted.

The action merely sounded so dog like it wasn't funny.

"I needed to stretch my legs," the injured shadowhunter managed to say, trying to pull the swaying and blurry world into focus.

"By the Angel, Lucian, you look like hell," Stephen exclaimed. Lucian smiled weakly upon his brother-in-law, the dark circles beneath his eyes prominent on his pale and clammy face.

"You don't need to be polite, Stephen," Lucian answered, "I know I look worse than that." It was a fact, he really did look worse, not that anyone was going to say it to his face.

"You should not be up and about," Valentine said, "You need to get back to bed." He made to move forward, but Stephen got there first. Catching Lucian around the arms, he nodded towards his leader.

"I'll take him," he said, flashing his winning smile in Valentine's direction before hulling Lucian back of to the infirmary.

Once inside the room, the blonde haired man set his quarry down on the bed. Lucian looked away with a some sort of shame.

"Thanks," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

"How are you holding up?" he heard the man ask. Lucian withheld a sigh, his blue eyes flashing with a deep sadness and pain.

"Well enough," he answered, head still bent towards his hand which were fidgeting with the covers of the bed.

"That is more of a lie than anything," Stephen said softly, sitting next to the distressed man, "And you know it is."

This time Lucian did sigh, his eyes growing more downcast than before and his shoulders finally being allowed to sag.

"I suppose you know," he said, a resigned sorrow colouring his tone more than anything else. Stephen nodded, a sympathetic smile twitching upon his lips.

"Yes, Jocelyn delivered the news to both Amatis and me several days ago. I am sorry I took so long in getting here," the blonde answered.

"That you're here at all is something in itself," Lucian acknowledged, glad for the company and a shoulder to lean on. He paused. "How did Amatis take the news?"

"She was…understandably distressed," Stephen said with some hesitation, "She still is, and thought it would be best if she did not come for the time being least she should only serve to distress you. Your sister would be here otherwise." The shadowhunter offered the despairing man beside him a reassuring look.

The pair sat in silence for some time, Lucian's mind growing slower as his eyelids grew heavier. Still, he fought to keep them open, not wanting Stephen to leave just yet.

"You should sleep," Stephen finally said, breaking the silence, "You look like you need it."

The man stood to allow his friend to stretch back out on the bed, Lucian looking at him for a few moments before closing his blue eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured one last time, and only a mere second later he was wrapped up in a deep sleep.

Stephen watched him for a moment before turning to leave, a grieving sadness etched upon his face and buried deep within his eyes for the fate of his comrade and friend.

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**If you think it is worth the while, review please.**


	5. Talking

**Again, sorry for the long update. Hope you enjoy it.**

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**Chapter 5: Talking**

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Jocelyn sighed quietly to herself, glancing around for her husband as she allowed her hand to rest upon the handle of the door separating her from Lucian. The woman had not seen her friend since he had first awoken, acting on the strict orders of Valentine to stay away from the man he now deemed clearly unstable. She did not entirely believe her husband that Lucian was such a danger, if she were to be honest with herself, and Jocelyn knew for a fact that Stephen had just left her home after spending a long while alone with her injured friend. Her infected friend.

Shaking her head, Jocelyn berated herself harshly. As Stephen had pointed out to Amatis when she had delivered the news to the pair, there was still a slight chance that Lucian's wound had only affected his flesh, and not his entire genetic make-up. Keeping a firm hold of her emotions, the redheaded shadowhunter swung open the door slightly, peering in so she grasp the situation before leaping into it.

Lucian laid asleep on the bed, his dark and tousled hair prominent against the white of the pillow his head rested upon. The wounded man's brow was a little damp with sweat, but whether it had been caused by the heat of the evening or the toxins the wound had released into the young shadowhunter's body Jocelyn was unsure. She was sure, however, of the fact that she wanted to enter into the room, even if it was against her husband's wishes.

Stepping inside the room and letting the door swing closed with her hand held up against it to stop it from banging shut, Jocelyn felt a tear trickle down the side of her face. How something like this could happen to_ Lucian_ of all people was beyond her comprehension in her current state of mind.

"Ah," she murmured softly to the unconscious man inhabiting one of the two beds in the room, "Why could you not have just stayed home?" However, in asking the question, Jocelyn already knew what the answer would be. Lucian would never let Valentine go on such a dangerous mission alone, he would never let any of them really. He was just too, well Lucian to do so.

Sitting on the bed opposite to the slumbering shadowhunter, the redheaded woman placed her head in her hands. It was as if her take on the world had been shattered, as if her view on everything had been one of wishful thinking. It was certainly a more darker place than usual, for Lucian's blue eyes and small smile had so often been the very things to drive away the burden of everything. His simple kindness and basic politeness never failed to light up her day, but now that was most certainly all but gone.

Chocking back a dry sob, Jocelyn ran one hand through her friend's tangled brown hair. Fingers carding through curly locks, the shadowhunters gaze fell upon the ghosting of stubble spread across her wounded comrade's jaw. Though he usually liked to go around clean shaven, Jocelyn secretly thought that he looked handsomer with a black shadow upon the lower half of his face. The beginnings of a beard made Lucian seem more mysterious and aloof to her, and the redhead admitted to wondering a few times about whether or not her friend would have more luck with women around his age if he didn't shave for a couple of days.

A yawn started Jocelyn out of her daydreaming and looking down she found blue eyes blinking slowly awake. Her heart fluttered in panic as the redhead looked around for a way out, not wanting to be caught in the room staring at her friend in what would be deemed as an inappropriate manner for a woman who was already married. She quickly withdrew her hand from his hair and did her best to smooth her face into an impassive mask not unlike that of her husband's before looking down again.

Lucian was staring up at her, quiet amusement shinning in his bleary eyes and a faint smile upon his lips, having born witness to Jocelyn's flustered flurry of movement.

"You don't need to pretend nothing happened," the shadowhunter joked, "You're husband's not here to see anything."

Jocelyn gave a short little laugh, relaxing as she let her nerves calm.

"I suppose you are right," she answered lightly, "And in any case, I think Valentine would prefer me alone with you than with any of the other men of the Circle. It's not like anything would ever happen between us, and he trusts you more than most not to make a move on me unawares." She did not notice the brief flash of hurt pass through her old friend's eyes as she fluttered her eyes somewhat provocatively at the shadowhunter on the bed.

"No," Lucian laughed, his tone, if anything, sounding somewhat forced, "I suppose I would not. I fear you too much to do such a thing."

"You fear me or Valentine?" Jocelyn asked, grinning widely as she raised her eyebrows.

Lucian did not answer and she let it slide, preferring to watch him in silence, listening for the door to the front of their house that would signal when her husband was back from his 'trip' as he had called it. Lucian, however, did not seem to be as comfortable with the silence. Jocelyn wouldn't expect him to, after all, he was almost certainly still battling with the fact that sooner or later he was going to become a werewolf.

"There's no need to feel depressed about it," the redhead reassured the man. Lucian stared up at her, brow creased in a frown.

"What are you on about?" he asked, clearly confused.

"You still have time, you know. It's still a while away before-" Lucian cut Jocelyn off midsentence.

"Stop it," he said, starting to grow annoyed.

"Look, it's alright if you want to talk about it-"

"I'm not the one talking about it," Lucian almost yelled, "You are! So either stop talking about it or leave me alone. I don't want to even THINK about this!"

Jocelyn's mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish's. Lucian had rarely yelled at her, if ever. The redhead stood slowly.

"Alright," she said in a soft voice, "I'll leave you alone then." And with that, she walked out of the room, oblivious to the more than regretful look Lucian shot after her.

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	6. Between anger and guilt

**Short chapter, I know, even for this fic. In any case, I hope you enjoy it and updates may not be a while, but I'll try to get one up as soon as possible. Meanwhile, enjoy.**

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**Chapter g: Between anger and guilt**

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In all honesty, Lucian felt like throwing something at the wall, none too happy with how he had dealt with the situation. He had just grown so angry over the fact that Jocelyn of all people was acting as though he only had a month to live, that everyone was. It was more or less true, for becoming a Downworlder would be no worse than a death sentence, yet those he knew did not have to think it such a big deal and think him so fragile because of it.

If the blue eyed man were to be even more honest with himself, however, he would recongise that it had not only been one reason that was responsible for making him lash out at the woman who had stolen his heart.

_"It's not like anything would ever happen between us."_

They had been the same words she had spoken to him on her and Valentine's wedding night. The same words that had crushed every hope he had ever had. Never the less, he had gone on, and he would still go on for as long as he was able. Lucian knew he had enough practice in playing the good friend that it would just be easier for him to continue on like nothing had ever happened. The sad fact was that nothing ever had.

Growling to himself, the injured shadowhunter sat, wincing as he did so before leaning back against the pillows. He fingered his bandages, pulling at a loose thread as he worked through his thoughts. It came as a shock to him for him to feel such anger towards Jocelyn, one of the only people who was someone Lucian could really call a friend. Sure he had been angry at her before, but never like this. It felt wrong, unnatural.

What was happening to him?

Lucian moped around in the same position for a long while, head sinking deeper and deeper into his hands as he held it in despair. He winced every now and then from the pain in his shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Why the world was punishing him as such, the Shadowhunter didn't know, but he more or less felt he deserved it, the failure that he was.

The door opened again and Lucian looked up, hoping to the Angel that it was Jocelyn. His luck, however, was just as bad as always and it was Valentine's face who greeted him in the doorway, blank and indifferent as he made his way into the room and over to the bench where he kept the bandages.

"How's your shoulder?" he asked as Lucian sighed inwardly and leaned back into his pillows, "Still hurting?" Valentine's voice demanded the truth and if Lucian didn't know better, a little cold and uncaring.

"Yes," the blue eyed man responded, giving his parabati the slightest of nods, "But not as much as before."

"Good, good," the man across from him muttered absently as his hands busied in his preparations to redress and bandage the wound on Lucian's shoulder. If Valentine was angry, he didn't show it, in fact he didn't radiate any emotion as he made his way over to Lucian and told the injured Shadowhunter to sit and keep from moving.

Lucian waited patiently as Valentine went about his business, trying hard not to flinch as his friend and leader drew the bandages around his shoulder tighter than usual. Valentine strode across the room and shelfed the ointment and roll of bandages before walking out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. Lucian wondered what he had done to offend the usually level headed man.

_Idiot,_ the shadowhunter told himself as the answer hit him, _he is mad because you messed up big time. You failed him and he knows it. Way to go, Lucian._

His thought process brought the anger from before bubbling up again, it focused this time on himself. As the rage frothed away inside of him, the injured man reached across the bed he was confined to and lifted a small glass vile from the table beside him. Drawing his hand back, he threw it at the wall opposite him, grinning darkly when the force of the object impacting the wall and then shattering satisfied some of his anger's desires.

The door flew open and Valentine appeared in its frame, glancing first at Lucian and then around the room to see the cause of the commotion. His eyes alighted on the pile of glass and Lucian felt guilt sweep through him. How could he have let his anger get the better of himself? He was usually so good at keeping it together, hidden inside a fortress with walls as thick as his own house. As it was, the bed ridden man watched as Valentine wordlessly stepped over to the broken glass and gathered it up, not even bothering to spare his friend a second glance.

As his _parabati_ exited the door to the room for the second time that day, Lucian felt another emotion stir up inside of him; self-loathing. He was obviously not that good of a shadowhunter if he had allowed a werewolf to get the better of him, to land a blow that would not only end the life he knew, but the relationships that he had with everyone he cared about.

Glancing down at his arm, Lucian traced the rune that signified both he and Valentine were linked the same way that blood brothers were. Most of his other runes had faded, used up when he had first been attacked, but not this one, not the one that was a symbol of how powerful the bond between two shadowhunters could be. Now it was his lifeline, the thing that would remind of who he was when he lost it all.

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	7. Argument

**Here, enjoy. The next update may take a while, so bare with me.**

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**Chapter 7: Argument**

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When Stephen re-entered his own home, he glanced up the stairs as he done so, hoping that signs of life would present themselves to him. They, much to his disappointment and concern, did not.

"Amatis?" he called after a short while, placing one hand upon the banister and one foot upon the first step. The blue eyed man called his wife's name again, moving his second foot up to the second stair on the staircase.

The shadowhunter proceeded onwards when no reply was given, moving swiftly up to the second level of the house he shared with Lucian's sister out of concern for his wife. Coming up onto the landing, Stephen walked down the hall as though his feet had sprouted wings, racing to the half opened door at the very end of the hall.

"Amatis!" he cried again, his voice rising out of concern for her, all thoughts on what he had wanted to say briefly banished from his mind.

Bursting through the half opened door like a madman, Stephen drew up short as Amatis glanced at him with blue eyes which were dull and almost lifeless. A little annoyed that the woman had not answered his calls and feeling more than a little stupid for panicking like he had, Stephen stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him as he did so. He opened his mouth to speak, to scold her for not answering his calls, to ask her what was wrong, but Amatis got there first.

"He's lost to me," she said mournfully, "He is lost to me." It appeared the female shadowhunter was still in grief over what had happened to her brother.

"He is not gone yet," Stephen corrected, "And he wants you to go and see him." Amatis' eyes flashed as she glared up at her husband.

"_That_ is not my brother as I have told you before," she said angrily, hands which had been previously clutching her hair in mourning now clenched into fists at her side.

"Come now," Stephen reasoned, not sure how to handle the situation without causing severe grief to either one or both parties he was now caught between, "Lucian has not changed yet and as I keep saying, he may even have escaped being-"

"You believe that hogwash?" Amatis snapped, her teeth now bared as venom dripped from her harsh words, "You must be an idiot to believe so. He was bitten by a werewolf and promptly died because of it."

"Lucian is not dead," Stephen said back in a tight voice, growing angry himself over his wife's denial in what had happened and her refusing to support the brother who had always supported her.

"He is, you are just refusing to acknowledge the truth," the only woman in the room shot back at her husband. Stephen withheld a growl, wanting very much to punch the wall to vent his frustration.

"I am not the one who refuses to see the truth of the mater," he said bluntly, "It is Lucian who is at Valentine's house, Lucian who nearly died, Lucian who is in pain, Lucian who has been bitten, and Lucian who is more than a little afraid, confused and upset. Yet here you sit denying his very existence."

"No," Amatis answered forcefully, standing as she done so, "My Lucian died in that werewolf attack and he is not coming back. That _thing_ you speak of is the one who killed him."

"Amatis," Stephen tried to reason, "It is Lucian and he wants you, he needs you and your presence and your comfort."

"Well, I refuse to give it," his stubborn wife replied. She made to move out of the door, but Stephen stepped in her path, blocking her. "Let me pass, Stephen," she growled, none too happy with her husband at the current point in time.

"Not until you listen and see reason," Stephen replied, "Now sit down, please."

Amatis glared at the blonde shadowhunter, unhappy with the way that the man would not leave her be. The two had a brief stare off before the woman finally gave in and sat, her arched eyebrows drawn in close together.

"Reason away then," she said icily, "And let's see if you get anywhere." Stephen swallowed before speaking.

"Look, Lucian deserves you comfort," he said softly in an attempt to calm the situation down, "And if you had been bitten, I would not hesitate to say he would do the same for you and not leave your side until you changed, and even then, not until Robert, Valentine or I made him. He wouldn't give up hope even then. He deserves no less from you."

The man's words clearly fell upon deaf ears for Amatis' harsh gaze did not lessen in any way, so it was with a sigh that Stephen continued.

"Look," he said, "You don't even have to actually want to do it, just pretend, pretend to be there for him." It was the only option he could come up with for everything else he had tried had failed. Silence descended upon the room and Stephen held his breath, waiting for an answer.

"Why should I?" Amatis said, breaking any sense of hope that the blue eyed man had felt.

"Please," Stephen begged, ready to grovel at her feet if the need be, "If not for him, then for me." His wife regarded him coldly.

"I will not go to that _monster_ for anyone, not even you," she said clearly. Stephen walked over to her, preparing to bend down to grovel as he placed one hand on her shoulder.

"I _lied_ to him for _you_," he said in a desperate voice, "About you and your feelings. Please, just do this. I do not want him to find out the truth."

As the shadowhunter started talking, Amatis had shaken his hand off her shoulder and stood. She looked down at where her husband was now sitting, looking utterly defeated and turned her nose up as he finished speaking.

"You needn't have lied," was all she said before walking out of the room, leaving her despairing husband alone with his thoughts and utterly lost in what to do.

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	8. Nightmares

**Long update, short chapter. Maybe the content will make up for it?**

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**Chapter 8: Nightmares**

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Sleep seemed like an easy enough task ordinarily. When you had been attacked by monsters, however, and almost mauled to death by them, sleep became a whole lot harder to reach, and once reached, even harder to deal with.

_He was walking through the forest again, alone this time and armed only with a long bladed knife. The trees pressed in around him and Lucian had to keep himself from holding his breath, the rapidly closing in darkness stirring up childhood fears from long ago. The man adjusted his grip on the weapon in his hand and looked around himself warily before berating himself and straightening._

_This was ridiculous. He was a shadowhunter for crying out loud and the dark should have been afraid of him, not the other way around. Glancing around, Lucian took in a deep breath, holding it in as he tried to calm the nerves fluttering around in his stomach. The blue eyed man was still afraid, but unsure as to why._

_Leaves crackled beneath his sturdy shoes as Lucian set forth once again, having stopped upon battling to keep sheer panic from possessing his being. The shadowhunter could feel the wrongness of the place in the air, the wrongness of the area around him, yet in the distance a barn owl hooted as if everything were as it should be. _

_It was the luminous and glowing eyes which gave them away._

_Howling, the wolf-like creatures came out of nowhere, fading in and out of the backdrop of inky blackness which shrouded them in shadows. Mouths salivating and snarls beyond murderous and blood hungry, it took the creatures to land only a few feet away from Lucian to force the man out of his frozen shock and to run in the opposite direction._

_Wind blowing through his short and curly hair, Lucian could smell the strong scent of fear upon himself, sweating from running so hard and so fast, yet adrenaline was pumping through his body none stop so the young man could not feel the exhaustion shaking his limbs as he fled. The monsters behind him snapped at his heels, drawing close enough for Lucian to be able to feel their hot breath upon his neck and at one point he was pulled back, his jacket caught in the powerful jaws of one of his foes, only to sprint forward in a burst of high strung energy as he tore free of the piece of clothing which had been imprisoning him. The cold air of the night was cool upon his bare arms, t-shirt clinging to his lean and not overly muscular chest. A head drew up beside him and it was in that moment Lucian realised he was not going to outrun the enemy. Better to stand and fight then._

_Drawing short, the blue eyed shadowhunter had only managed to just pull out his knife before being struck in the back by a massive weight. Falling forward, Lucian barely had time to scramble to his knees before being struck again in the back, this time with sharp and stinging claws slashing through flesh and bone. Suddenly all the feeling went out of his legs and the young man flopped to the ground, pain exploding up his spine. _

_Lucian screamed, long and hard as the pain engulfed him, greeting the man with its wicked tendrils. The creatures did not stop there, however, and it was only moments later that Lucian found himself being mauled, chunks of flesh ripped from bone as he was mercilessly kept alive. Above it all, a shadow loomed, the familiar face baring an unfamiliar cruel and wicked grin._

_"Help me, please," Lucian somehow managed to get out through his mouth, lips moving almost wordlessly. Yet the being ignored him and it was to Lucian's utter horror that Valentine turned away._

Breathing hard Lucian woke from the dark dream, shivering at the ferocity of it all. Being attacked by a pack of angered werewolves did not leave one unscarred and Lucian felt like throwing up, almost did so as images of his own blood and mutilated flesh flew through his mind yet again. Why he had dreamed of Valentine the blue eyed man had no idea, but the shadowhunter sensed something was wrong in the air, just as it had been in the air of his dream. There were secrets lurking within the room and the house itself, hidden things of which had been built up on lies and deceit and ill-found trust, but what it was that was so wrong, Lucian had no idea.

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**Please review and tell me I am forgiven. Thanks for all the reviews by far. **

**Anon - That image is branded into my brain. He is a good actor. I am glad you are enjoying this.**


	9. Can't

**Sorry for the long update, but I hope you like the chapter.**

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**Chapter 9: Can't**

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Jocelyn felt trapped, trapped in pity that Lucian obviously did not want. Her friend had never brushed her away like that before, had never gotten so angry with her before and the red haired shadowhunter would be lying if she said it didn't disturb her. She had no idea why Lucian had reacted that way either. Unless she had missed something… No, he was just upset about his situation. Who wouldn't be in his place?

_I'm going to lose my friend_, she thought despairingly, glancing down the hall she had not been down since the argument with Lucian. In fact, since then, no one had been down it except her husband, though the rest of the circle did turn up every so often to offer their condolences to Valentine for the fate of his _parabati_. They were all acting as if Lucian were already gone, and in a way, Jocelyn supposed he was.

"Are you alright?" came the addictive voice of her husband. Jocelyn turned and smiled at him before allowing her face to crumple into a mask of worry.

"I am concerned about Lucian," she admitted. Valentine brushed a hand down her cheek, staring into the woman's eyes.

"It is only natural for he was a good friend of yours," Valentine informed her. Jocelyn suddenly pulled away.

"Was?" she asked incredulously. Valentine just looked at her in the way a parent would look upon a naïve child.

"Ever since that _thing_ bit him, he has not been Lucian. He will never be Lucian again, not the one we knew in any case," the leader of the Circle informed her. Jocelyn, however, just frowned upon him in a growing anger.

"He has not yet changed," she said harshly, "And therefore still is the friend I knew. There may even be a chance he does not change at all."

"You are beginning to sound like Stephen," Valentine suddenly said, his voice growing unusually ugly, "So I suggest you wake up to the reality of the situation and stop trying to make it sound better than it is." With that, he stormed away from her and the hall in which his_ parabati_ laid.

Jocelyn stared after her husband in frustration, unable to believe that he had given up so easily on Lucian who was as much as his friend as hers, perhaps even more so. She would never give up like he had.

But maybe she already had.

A thought worked its way into her head, a thought of her in tears over her friend's predicament. No, she would not give up on him. Lucian would certainly not give up on her, perhaps even going so far as to not give up even after she changed into one of the very monsters they hunted.

Making up her mind, the red haired shadowhunter took a breath and stepped one foot into the hallway where the door to Lucian was closed at the end. All she had to do was walk the short distance and open it and then the gap between her and her friend would close and she could help him through the times ahead as he would have helped her.

The prospects were more than a little daunting.

Working up her courage, Jocelyn lifted her other foot and took a second step and then a third and then a fourth. It took all her willpower not to turn and run, especially given what had happened when they had last been in the room together. She made it to the door, even raised a hand to the knob and then…pulled away, sinking to the floor with her back to the door. She couldn't go in, she couldn't. She hated herself for it, but she just couldn't.

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